Strangers in a Two Bit Town
by gladsomemind
Summary: Rossi is starting out on his very first book tour.  Nerves make you do some things that could be considered out of character.  Like chatting up some kid in a bar.
1. The Bar

******OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Criminal Minds, or any of its associated characters, plots, scripts or episodes. 

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**Strangers in a Two-Bit Town**

Like so many small town bars, the light levels inside bore little resemblance to the time of day. Subdued lighting hid the various patrons from each other, the oasis that was the bar the only place to see clearly. It was early in the day to be drinking but a little Dutch courage had seemed appropriate before standing in front of a bunch of strangers and trying to convince them to part with their money.

The glass of whiskey in front of him remained nearly untouched; bitter on his tongue the first sip had been enough to convince him that getting drunk probably wasn't a good idea. There was still thirty minutes before the talk and book signing; thirty minutes to convince himself that there were going to be actual people there who were going to ask questions and interact, that he wasn't going to be standing alone in a bookshop like an idiot.

Clearly alcohol had been involved when he decided it would be a good idea to write a book. Sitting in the lawyer's office going through his third divorce it had seemed reasonable - but divorces always made him maudlin. Share the pain; let others know what goes on to protect them from the monster under the bed. Why would anyone want to know this stuff? Why would they want to know that the bogeyman in the closet was real, that he might really be out to get you?

A figure sliding onto the stool next to him drew David Rossi from his introspection. The bar itself had no other patrons, the bar flies contenting themselves with tables in the darker corners, so it was a strange seat choice. Especially considering his new drinking companion appeared to be some high school senior come college freshman, not some embittered lady of negotiable affection.

He really didn't need this. The universe was clearly mocking him. Being a successful author never seemed further away, he was about to be reduced to being a beat cop, enforcing the State drinking age.

"ID." The barman at least agreed with him. A card was handed over and was good enough to elicit a grunt from the man before the ubiquitous, "what'll it be?"

It had to be fake, there was no-way this kid had hit twenty one. Rossi turned to look him over again. Clearly aware of the look, it could hardly be classed as subtle, the kid shucked his jacket sleeve further up his arm to take a look at his watch. "Given the time, coffee will be fine."

Technically he should still call the youngster on the fake id but as long as he stuck to none alcoholic Rossi was prepared to let this one go. He didn't have time to get embroiled in whether the barman was checking IDs properly and this was a college town. Coffee drinking underage bar patrons were hardly the worst that was going to come in of an evening.

Rossi watched as the kid added sugar to the hot drink as if it was going out of fashion. Dealing with diabetic shock was equally something to be avoided if he was going to make the reading.

"You don't taste anything after two teaspoons, you do know that don't you?" He wasn't quite sure why he was engaging with the other man but it might help to pass the time and if he didn't want to be spoken to then he should have sat on any of the other seats in the place.

The young man smiled at Rossi, who felt his heart skip in response, causing him to frown. His companion turned back to look at his drink, making Rossi feel like a complete heel for upsetting him.

"I don't much like coffee." The words were mumbled barely audible. "But it's hardly time to start drinking is it?"

The rebuke hit home. It was still early, to be hitting the spirits at least, and he had a job to do later. Rossi pushed the glass away, made eye contact with the barman and ordered a coffee.

He felt, more than saw, the other man smile. Rossi could rationalise his actions like a pro. The scotch wasn't particularly good; he had to stand up and talk in a little while and it would be best not to fall into any audience that did show; but he knew it was solely to please a total stranger.

A stranger who, unasked, was pushing over the sugar. The reason for this was soon evident. The coffee was worse than the scotch! It was only by dint of being an aficionado of cop shop coffee pots that he didn't spit it out over the bar.

Time to indulge in a little recreational profiling, just to help pass the time. The barman had been easy. Works long days to support the wife, wedding ring, and kids, photo of smiling family on the mirror behind the register. Wasn't particularly keen on his day time crowd but would do his job to the best of his abilities, which included knowing a fake ID; yet also knew when it wasn't worth pushing the letter of the law. Rossi was privately convinced that if his neighbour had ordered so much as a beer the ID would have been looked at in a more critical light.

The drunks in the corner were the same as drunks the world over.

Which left the kid. Rossi didn't believe he was twenty one and that lead automatically to another question. The coffee in here wasn't drinkable so why the bar and not the coffee shop down the street?

"I don't like the noise." The comment was so in tune with Rossi's thoughts that he wondered if he had spoken out loud. "If I'm not working I don't like to deal with the noise in the coffee shop. You were thinking 'why in here' weren't you?" Brown eyes looked at him from above a grin.

Rossi acknowledged the other man's profile with a nod. "It seems a strange place to come for a cup of coffee."

"It's dark and at this time of day it's quiet. I do a lot of work at night so dark and quiet are comfortable places to be." He returned to his cup of coffee, sneaking in a glance at his watch.

Night work. Well that explained why he sat down on the stool next to Rossi. Hopefully there wouldn't be a scene if he didn't avail himself of his charms. Wait, he reviewed the thought, _if_ he turned the kid down? Since when did SSA Rossi consider using any prostitute let alone a male one? He drowned the coffee while trying to sort out his feelings and promptly coughed on the grounds that had made it into the cup.

Shuddering at the taste in his mouth, he turned to take a good look at the kid. Late teens, early twenties tops; tall and scrawny, like he still needed to grow into the latest growth spurt; overly long hair surrounded a face that was pouting at him. So much for being subtle.

"So what brings you here?" Apparently Rossi's way with the ladies didn't translate into being able to talk to twinks.

The pout morphed back to the grin. "A favour for a friend. I sat here because I thought you were sat at the bar, but not knocking back the booze like it was about to be banned, so were likely to let me just sit here in peace and kill a little time. Didn't mean to interrupt your afternoon but sitting alone in a bar, well, it can get you some 'odd' attention. I figured I'd get left alone. So, please, don't think you need to talk to me."

"Am I disturbing you?" Rossi watched as one of the drinkers from the corner came over to the bar ogling the other man's body as they came. At least Rossi hadn't looked at him as if he was a piece of meat. The kid shook his head but his shoulders twitched together as if he could feel the eyes on him. "So, a favour? Anything exciting?"

"Not really." He got up and moved with his coffee cup to the other side of Rossi. "My housemate has decided he wants to join the FBI. God only knows what he's thinking, but some agent wrote a book and is signing at the bookstore down the street, now that's a place that needs to sell coffee, you know what I mean? It would be easy to kill several hours in there but it is the only bookshop on the planet that doesn't provide you with the opportunity to get a drink while you browse."

Rossi felt a little nonplussed at the sudden change in topic and a little proud that this beautiful person was actually there to see him.

"Anyway, I couldn't come up with anything better to get him for the holidays, so I figured why not, it's only twenty bucks right and maybe it will be some badly written true crime thing and he'll drop the idea of going off to be 'the Man' and get a sensible job doing something that doesn't involve shooting guns while diving through the air."

Rossi laughed. "There's surprisingly little of that when you work in law enforcement."

The grin grew wider. "Really, now that's a real shame. You'd think there'd be some sort of compensation for the ill fitting suits and long hours making all flying saucer sightings top secret."

"Well there is a lot of that I have to admit." Rossi held out his hand. "SSA David Rossi. FBI. Purveyor of bad true crime stories and professional X-files solver." The grin turned into a laugh but the younger man did shake his hand.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure the book is great, otherwise why would they have published it? Talk about bragging rights though, Ethan wants to join the FBI and I get to talk to the FBI agent - apart of course 'can you make it out to "Snookums" please?'"

"You call your housemate 'Snookums'?" Rossi admitted defeat to himself. He no longer cared that the conversation was in no way under his control. Here he was sat in a town he couldn't remember the name of, with some kid who was here to get a book signed for his housemate come boyfriend. As a past master in the art of denial he wasn't going to dwell on the feeling of disappointment that he wasn't being hit on.

"Not until now. But I think I might when I go back. Would you sign it to Snookums?"

"'To Snookums, with best wishes, David Rossi'. I don't think so, that would be the copy that would end up in some second hand book shop and would get picked up by Gideon or Ryan and I'd never live it down." Just the thought of the other two's mocking was enough to make him do an exaggerated shudder.

"Well, Super Secret Agent..."

"Supervisory Special Agent." That got Rossi a nod in acknowledgement of the correction.

"David Rossi, your literary stardom awaits and if you don't move it you're going to be late."

Rossi looked at his watch and swore. Quickly gathering his few belongings together he took a last look at his impromptu distraction. "I'll see you in a while then?"

Mischief sparkled out of the other man's eyes, a man Rossi noticed who hadn't given his own name in response, but he smiled and nodded. For now that would have to be enough.


	2. The Bookshop

All things considered, it hadn't gone too badly. The audience had been small but they willingly engaged with him on topics that were, hopefully, far from their experience. Rossi knew, however, that it had all been directed to a lone figure, lurking amongst the shelves, browsing as if the talk was an inconvenience he wanted to shush rather than his reason for being in the store.

It was only when the queue of polite true-crime fans had dwindled to a couple of white haired old dears that the figure emerged and came up for his autographed copy.

With a small huff of dissatisfaction, they'd wanted to monopolise his time for longer but politeness dictated that they cede the floor, the old women departed with their books and the two men were properly face to face for the first time.

"Who do I make it out to?" Rossi was determined to find out his bar mates name and without doing something as crass as flat out asking.

"Ethan, please." The hardback was handed over with a smile as if he knew precisely what Rossi wanted and seemed equally determined not to give it.

One book; one name, and the same one given in the bar. Either this really was the name of the housemate or he was something of a psychopath setting up a trail of misdirection. It seemed strange that, given their earlier talk and that he had hung around to listen to the presentation and Q and A, he wasn't picking up a copy for himself. Something that would contain more than the rather brusque 'Ethan - with best wishes - David Rossi'.

Book handed back and tucked neatly into the messenger bag slung across his body; the kid gave a nervous little shrug and tucked his overlong hair behind his ears. "I thought it went well, didn't you? Although if tonight's audience is anything like a typical crowd you may need to protect your virtue from octogenarian grandmothers."

Rossi laughed, the kid had pretty good instincts. He didn't seem to interact with a group of people very well and perhaps exhibited a few sociopathic tendencies - quite possibly what helped with his reading of people - but good instincts.

Of course, Rossi also had good instincts and years of experience on top of them; and he didn't want to spend the evening alone in this town. "Expected back anytime soon? Or would you care to join me for dinner?"

The invitation was out there. Now it was up to the kid - if he wanted to move this along or retreat from the lists. Dinner was relatively safe. There didn't have to be anything more to it than that but there was always an option they could choose to take if they were both agreeable.

"Well I've missed the bus back, next one isn't for a while. I could go for something to eat. There's a burger place down the street." The kid pointed at a wall.

Small town burger bars wasn't quite what Rossi had in mind. He was thinking more of the Italian place he'd seen when driving in, however the kid's acceptance of the invitation was the real kicker here. "I think we can do better than McDonalds, even here." Rossi smiled and gestured his companion to leave before him.

* * *

Rossi looked over the restaurant from the doorway with the heat of the kid radiating against his back. He wished he knew who he was profiling at this precise moment, the owners or the town's population. This place was definitely an Italian restaurant. From the check table cloths to the candles on the tables in the Chianti bottles. He half expected 'That's Amore' to come drifting over the speakers.

The waitress who moved to seat them gave them a once over before leading them to a table that was just private enough to give them the feeling of being alone while still allowing the staff to keep an eye on him if he made any sort of untoward move against the younger man. It made him feel like some ancient letch that the staff felt they needed to defend youth from his nefarious advances. Not helped that he was being laughed at by the man sitting opposite him.

"Do they expect you to pounce in the restaurant?" The question wasn't completely out of the blue but it was still surprising that the younger man was going to confront the potential of 'after' quite so readily. "Or do they expect me to steal the silverware?"

Rossi laughed. "I can flash my badge if you think it would help, reassure them that you are a citizen in good standing. Or we could just ignore it and order something. What takes your fancy? My treat as I'm the one who turned down 'Big Bill's Burger Bonanza'." The head opposite ducked down below the top of the menu.

It took the return of the waitress, coming for their drinks order to bring him back out from behind the protective screen. What Rossi really wanted to do was order a nice red that would complement the meal but he still had doubts as to the veracity of his companion's ID and left it open for the other man to speak first.

"Water's fine for me thanks."

"Make it two."

Drinks orders taken it was the work of a few seconds to add a couple of pasta dishes to the order and for the two men to be left alone again.

"No copy of the book for you then? I couldn't tempt you with all of the tales of daring do in the FBI?" The question surprised Rossi even as it was coming out of his mouth. He hadn't realised just how upset he was that the other man hadn't deemed it worth picking up a copy for himself.

The blush that suffused the other man's cheeks was adorable. "Can I own up to something?" Rossi nodded. "There are a couple of reasons really. I kind of read it while I was waiting for the talk to end. It's really lucky that they don't have one of those machines that detects when you are stealing something for your brain. How embarrassing would that be? You find yourself in a bookshop, casually flicking through a book and before you know it you've read the whole thing. Then you come to leave and an alarm starts going off and they come over and say 'excuse me sir I think you have something that belongs to us' and they take you off to some little room and suck the contents of your brain... Oh hi, thanks." He broke off when the waitress returned with their water, although he did get a strange look for the brain sucking comment.

"Not your sort of thing then?"

"Erm, not for pleasure reading. That tends to be medieval European literature or a Chem text at the moment." Rossi looked at him. It was hard to reconcile two such disparate choices but who was he to judge?

"But what about you? Planning on giving up the career to be an author?"

Rossi considered the question. It was strange but the thought of giving up the FBI hadn't really occurred to him. The Bureau had been his life for thirty years; it had seen him through three marriages and the subsequent divorces. Ryan and Gideon might be cantankerous old women but the three of them had built the BAU into a force to be reckoned with throughout the entire US, with numerous international consults to go along side. Could he really give it up? Give up finding out what had happened on that murder? For this?

Well, giving up profiling mass murderers for dinner with personable young men? If that was the offer then he didn't know of anyone who would necessarily turn that down. Even Hotch with his perky little wife would probably take this option!

That wasn't the question though; the question really was whether he was ready to call it a day. This job affected your life like no other. Maybe Hotch would make a go of his marriage and live happily ever after but the rest of the team looked to be proof that the BAU and marriage didn't mix. The Bureau and the BAU in particular took over your life, made you into what it needed with no consideration of your happiness. Used you up and spat you out, turning you into an obsessive about the case you didn't solve and gave you sleepless nights at the sights you saw.

Maybe it was time to walk away. Just maybe the book would be enough to allow Rossi to try to find a little balance, removing the overarching need for the next pay check. Hell, maybe it would be enough to just take a decent sabbatical, get away from the place for a while and just recharge.

"I think it's too soon to be making those sorts of decisions. As it stands I know that I have sold twenty copies of the book. That's not exactly a retirement package." He caught the eye of the waitress and indicated that he wanted the check. "When it hits the best sellers list then maybe I'll think about it."

* * *

Reality set back in as they left the restaurant. Who was he trying to kid here? It was just about acceptable to take the younger man to dinner, conversation had been wide ranging and Rossi had talked more about himself than he had in years. Now though, watching the other man pull on his jacket, he knew that he had to put an end to the night. Anything else would make the agent feel like the BAU should be chasing him.

Making the most of the opportunity to ogle the legs and ass that walked in front of him, Rossi tried to come up with a good reason to say goodnight. He was so lost in the sight and his thoughts that he didn't notice the other man had stopped and turned to face him until he almost collided.

"You're thinking very loudly." The other man leaned in until his lips were just above Rossi's. "Maybe you should try not thinking at all?" Under the forwardness Rossi could just hear the insecurity in the words and his heart broke just a little at the thought that he was responsible for putting it there.

Insanity assured he closed the remaining distance between them and placed a chaste kiss on the younger man's lips. Pulling back he stepped away so he could better see the expression on the taller man's face. "This is wrong on a great many levels."

"Why?" The question was almost clinical. "Unless you are married?"

The revulsion in the tone was quite clear, you can be out perverting youngsters and that's alright - but not if you are cheating on someone while you are doing it. "Divorced. Three times if you want to keep count, but that's not the issue. I should be making sure you get home safely not thinking what I'm thinking."

The grin was back. "Too late. Last bus was an hour ago, so if you want to keep me safe, you're just going to have to take me back to your hotel and look after me. Which way are we going?"

Rossi admitted defeat. He didn't want the evening to end and neither did his companion. He pointed down the street and watched as the other man bounced in that direction.

"Come on then, it's cold out here." Hurrying to catch up, the embittered FBI agent couldn't resist taking a swat at the bouncing ass. Maybe it would all work out after all.


	3. The Bedroom

Rossi woke to a warm body curled against his side, a bladder that needed to be emptied and no idea of who he'd had sex with the night before. Even in his worst player days he'd always known the name of the women he'd slept with.

Slowly extricating himself from the arm, trying to leave his companion as undisturbed as possible he watched as the body snuggled into the empty warmth in the glow from the entry before making his way to the bathroom to relieve at least one of his problems.

Washing his hands he looked at himself in the mirror and then turned to grab one of the complimentary robes before returning to his contemplation. Every thought was negative. The kid wasn't even half his age, he would have been in grade school when Rossi was going through his second divorce - and that was only if he accepted that he was twenty one. Hell, 'he' was a he! It was only a minor consolation that, expert profilers that they were, the rest of the BAU wouldn't think this could have happened.

Glancing up at the shower cubicle reflected over his right shoulder a smile came to his lips as he remembered the enthusiasm in his sleeping lovers face as he bounced naked out of the bed the night before. The shower after sex was reasonable, they were both sweaty and sticky after all but the cubicle itself was too small for more than one person at a time - for getting clean or getting dirty - but the invitation in his eyes had been cleared as he backed his way into the bathroom. When Rossi had shaken his head, still too spent to actually move, he'd expected the door to close between them but the kid blithely entered the shower and started to soap his body down. The sight had been enough to drag Rossi from the bed to meet the younger man as he got out of the shower and make him dirty all over again.

Taking a deep breath, Rossi cracked open the bathroom door and moved to take a look at the sleeping man in the light that spilled from the door. In repose he looked even younger, almost angelic with his hair falling across his face - a direct contrast to the devilry of the night before. However, he did look to be fast asleep, undisturbed by Rossi getting out of the bed.

Yawning, Rossi moved back to switch off the bathroom light when he spotted the kid's bag sitting by one of the chairs. His ID had been returned to the bag in the bar. Here was the perfect opportunity to find out a name to go with his memories of the night before.

With a last look at the sleeping man, he moved to pick up the bag, sitting on the chair to conduct the search. It was the work of a moment to undo the buckles on the front open the flap. Top of the bag was a carrier bag from the bookstore. Just the one book, Rossi's autographed gift for Ethan, in the plastic bag to protect it from the other contents of the bag.

Moving a scarf to one side, there was the prize, the kid's wallet. He'd just about extracted it from the bag when a voice came from the bed.

"What are you doing?"

Rossi gave a guilty start, he hadn't been aware the other man had woken up and was watching him. All he could do was sit there and stare as the younger man climbed out of the bed. Unlike Rossi he was still unconcerned with his nakedness, which wasn't conducive to the agent being able to think coherently, more interested in reclaiming his bag. The angelic comparison held, only now he looked like he was on his way to smite Gomorrah.

"I was... I just... I wanted..." Words failed him as the bag was snatched out of his hands. A quick check of the contents and the bag was dropped to the floor in favour of pulling on his clothes.

"I don't believe you." Rossi was barely aware of what was being said to him as he watched last night's striptease in reverse. "What possible reason do you have for going through my things?"

The glare did break through his stupor and he tried, again, to explain his actions. "I just wanted to know your name. You never said."

The other man drew himself up to his full height and looked disdainfully at the seated agent. "A gentleman doesn't introduce himself and if you wanted to know that badly you could have just asked." He bent down to scoop up his socks and shoes, grabbed his bag and headed barefoot to the door.

"Where are you going?" It was the middle of the night, there was no way his bus would be leaving for hours.

"To find a park bench."

Rossi could only rise and stand there as the door clicked closed behind the best night of his life.


	4. The Book

Dedication page of David Rossi's second book

Snookums

I'm sorry


	5. The BAU

The FBI grapevine was a wonderful thing. Jack Ryan rang him to give him the news that Jason Gideon had done a disappearing act and left the BAU a man down and decades of experience missing. It was a golden opportunity, too good to pass up. David Rossi had two regrets in his life, two pieces of unfinished business that weighed on his conscience. One, he knew he would never get to resolve but the other, well with the other being back at the BAU would re-open the possibilities.

The necessary groundwork was done. Tomorrow he was going to go in and see Erin Strauss, and then he was going to meet with Aaron Hotchner and get the low down on the team he was going to join. Just one thing left to do, he looked into the mirror trying to convince himself that this wasn't pure vanity, then reached for the box of 'Just for Men'.

* * *

"Dave!"

Hotch had made it to the coffee shop before him and was holding one of the corner tables. Of course he was sat with his back to the corner with the best view possible of the room. Old habits did tend to die hard and he wouldn't willingly expose his back if he had any option. Dave couldn't blame him for that; he would have taken that seat himself given the chance. In fact he'd arrived early to try to ensure the best seat positioning.

He nodded in response to the greeting before moving to the counter to place his order.

"Long time no see." Dave slid into the seat opposite with a smile.

"Three years I think, some dinner party maybe. What's more interesting are a couple of phone calls I've had over the last couple of days. First I get a call from you asking me out to coffee of all things, now at the time I thought 'that's strange, didn't think I was his type'. Hotch smiled at Dave's eye roll. "Then, today, I get a call from Strauss telling me that you were coming back to the Bureau and that *I* was tasked with making sure you didn't sleep with the entire building. What's going on?"

"I got a call from Ryan. He'd gotten a call from Coop saying that Gideon had finally flipped and run out on you guys. Thought it might be nice to get some new material for the next book and called Erin. For politeness sake I figured talking to you up front might be a good plan. Didn't realise she'd beat me to the punch."

"Getting some trained assistance? I'll take it." He drank some more of his coffee before pinning Dave with the look that had hardened criminals trembling. "But what's this about. You know that I'm not going to have an issue with you coming back. You could have just shown up tomorrow and sprung this on me. No reason to fail to buy me a coffee."

"You're the one that was early." Hotch looked pointedly at the clock behind the counter, it was still five minutes to their meeting time. "The politeness of Kings."

"Anyway?"

"I figured that everyone was going to be new and you would give me a heads up on the people I'm going to be working with." There, he could be big about it, come to the point and take the ribbing that would come with the request.

"You? You want to take someone else's reading of people?" And there it was.

"No. I'm happy making my own decisions about the team." Too many years of doing it for a living meant that it was downright automatic. "What I'm after is a little preliminary information. Names, backgrounds. Just so as I'm not going in totally cold. I mean it's not like they aren't going to have this sort of info on me."

Hotch shook his head in defeat and Dave knew he was home and dry. "There's not much to tell. Everyone is, of course, professional. Prentiss has been in the team the shortest length of time, must be coming up to a year now. Has political connections but she's earned her place. Faced down Strauss with me earlier in the year."

"You've actually got a woman in the team?"

"You're going to have to dial back the misogyny you do know that don't you. Yes we have women in and attached to the Unit. You don't get to sleep with any of them. Strauss was very clear on that."

Erin always did have a way of spoiling his fun. "Is that just the Unit? The floor? The building? Or the whole Bureau?"

"Dave, we have all sorts of rules that are in place because you used to go through the women as if they were water. Ideally, for my blood pressure if nothing else, if you could try to pick wife number four from outside the Bureau and any police departments we interact with I would appreciate it."

Dave held up his hands in defeat. "Whatever you say."

Hotch shook his head, he knew him too well. "Morgan is an ex-cop, has ex-cop sort of baggage. Man of action and something of a player. If I didn't know it was impossible I'd say he was going after your record."

Dave raised his eyebrows at that.

"Last we've got Doctor Reid."

"Doctor? Since when do you give agents any honorific other than Agent?"

"Reid is special. Gideon's last protégé. He's probably the one who is most affected by the way he left. Anyway, Gideon is the one who instigated the Doctor part of the introduction, the rest of us have always gone along with it."

"But he's a real Doctor?"

Hotch nodded. "PhD not medicine but yes, you'll get used to him in time. Might be fun to stick the two of you together, maybe some of your player skills will rub off on him."

He was getting far too much amusement from that statement. Oh well, Dave knew that there was going to be a certain amount of hazing on his return. He could put up with it, get past it and get that crime finally solved. Maybe then he would be able to put everything behind him and just enjoy his retirement.

"That's it for profilers. Everyone else will wait."

"Fair enough." The two men stood and Dave watched amazed as Hotch moved back to the counter.

"Do I ask?"

"If I go back without coffee, considering the team knew where I was going and life won't be worth living. I can give you one more hint on dealing with the team." He paid for the coffee and moved to the end of the counter and collected an obscene amount of sugar. "Don't get between them and their coffee."

"I'll remember that." Dave turned to leave before stopping and turning back. "Oh Hotch, one last thing. Let's not tell Erin that we met up.

Hotch smiled again, getting one over on Erin was always going to make people who worked with her happy. "I think I can agree to that."

"In that case, I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

It was second nature to tune Erin out. It wasn't as if she needed to do this whole escort thing to Hotch's office but if it lead to her getting to feel superior and off his back he could weather the experience and just settle into the job he'd left years before.

The first view of the office and his new colleagues were more important that anything she could be saying. What his view showed was that there at least one member of the department who took Halloween far too seriously. His antics didn't seem to be upsetting the other agents most of whom seemed to be looking on indulgently.

Watching as he peeled the mask off Rossi felt his heart miss a beat. It couldn't be.


	6. Chapter 6

David Rossi, FBI agent of long standing, a man who had faced down rapists, child molesters and serial killers, stood in the hallway of an apartment building afraid to knock on the door in front of him. Twice already he had raised his hand to knock on the wooden panel before allowing it to drop back down to his side.

The problem was he had no idea what reception he was going to get when, or indeed if, the door was opened. He shouldn't be here - that was pretty much a given. Technically he wasn't even supposed to know where here was. There was no requirement for Rossi to have the address, if there was he could have flat out asked for it rather than acting like some mad stalker and trailing the resident home several times.

Knocking on the door could end his career.

Not knocking on it could drive him insane.

Rossi nodded to one of the neighbours, who was passing by on their way to put out the trash. Witnesses weren't going to help matters. In fact if he was hit with terminal cowardice that he'd been here could still get back to the man behind the door.

This was something that had to be done. It had been put off too many times for too many very good, downright excellent, reasons.

It was all Hotch's fault. When they'd met for coffee he'd told Rossi about the team; about Prentiss and Morgan and all their qualities and about Doctor Reid, Gideon's protégée. Jason's big find; who had so shocked the ex-retired agent by his very presence that Rossi had nearly screwed up his first case back.

It wasn't as if he could tell Hotch, after effectively promising not to prowl through the Bureau, that he'd been thrown off his game because he was imagining pounding into one of the team, and no not the pretty brunette, the perky blonde or the demented tech. What he could he say when the star of his fantasies had shaken his hand and then gone off on some theory he wanted to discuss when they were introduced? Rossi still couldn't have said what that question had been, Hotch's comment about a plane being the only thing that registered past 'my God. It's him.'

What got Rossi most of all though was that he didn't actually know if it _was_ him! It wasn't like he could ask 'hey did I spank your ass one night in California?' Privacy in the BAU wasn't good enough for that and Doctor Reid somehow managed to avoid being alone with him outside the strict confines of a case.

There had been a moment - right after Hotch had announced that the two of them were to drive to Philadelphia - that Rossi thought the opportunity to talk to the younger man had been presented to him on a plate; even with the threat of Asimov. But Reid had pulled orange headphones out of the ever present bag and switching on an honest to goodness Walkman. He'd then just started out of the window the entire way with the audio book a wall between them. Being met by a groupie in the local office, one who managed to manipulate Rossi by playing to his vanity, hadn't helped open up channels either.

All of which left Rossi with only two scenarios. Either he was wrong. Doctor Reid was just someone who had read his first book so many times he could quote it back verbatim. From the looks on the faces of the others on the plane this wasn't quite as far-fetched as it sounded. So the bright young thing studies up on the founders in the field his working, probably to impress Jason bloody Gideon, to be pulled up by leveller heads when his enthusiasm got a little too much.

Alternatively he was right. Okay so there were years between the two meetings and, dinner aside, he hadn't spent that much time looking at the other man's face so it was altogether possible that his mind was playing tricks. As if the naked indignation wasn't permanently etched into his mind.

With a deep breath, Rossi raised his hand and finally knocked. Then thought about all the possibilities on the other side of the door; all the things he hadn't considered. Reid was inherently private, he rarely talked about his friends outside the Bureau but there was no way he could survive in this job alone. At the start of their last case Rossi had thrown out a 'hope she was worth it', as a joke, when he'd walked in late but it was always possible he was curled up inside in the arms of his significant other.

This was stupid, an ill conceived plan that should have been immediately consigned to the trash. The last few months had been too much for him, coming back to the BAU; solving a twenty year old murder; not to mention the last case itself. Everyone had been jumpy. Hotch had nearly throttled Reid over his behaviour and that was before Reid confronted the heavily armed unsub in the middle of the street without a vest, blocking everyone's shot. The kid shouldn't be allowed out in the field if that was the sort of thing he was going to do.

Before the thought was quite finished the door in front of him was opening and he was face to face with a blinking Reid.

The younger man had changed when he'd come home and was looking adorably rumpled in an overlarge t-shirt and flannel pyjama bottoms. For the first time since they'd come face to face in the bull-pen Reid looked like he didn't have a clue what was going on. Not that he was alone in that.

All prepared speeches went flying out of Rossi's head. The two men looked at each other, saying nothing, for a good sixty seconds before Rossi finally broke and croaked out the only word he had left.

"Sasquatch."

* * *

AN: For anyone still following along. Season 6 kinda kicked my ass to the point that I didn't care about CM at all. That said, the next part has been started so hopefully won't be another 5 months! That will probably be the end as at this point they are hardly strangers!

I'm out of B names for chapters as well - if anyone wants to suggest some!


	7. Back to a Bar

SSA David Rossi, veteran FBI agent; one of the founder members of the illustrious Behavioural Analysis Unit; sat at the bar of a dingy back street tavern and contemplated the end of his career.

All told he hadn't had a bad run. There were some successes, serial killers and rapists had been taken off the street; he'd even managed to generate a career as a writer with a number of best sellers under his belt. It was a shame it was all going to come tumbling down around ears around nine thirty tomorrow.

That was a generous estimation based on the time everyone normally arrived in the office; allowed for all parties to grab a morning cup of coffee and for Spencer Reid to tell Aaron Hotchner about his ill-advised visit to the younger man's apartment the night before. There would follow a phone call asking him to come to Hotch's office and, like a recalcitrant school boy, he would have to comply. There would follow an uncomfortable interview where he would try to explain why he saw fit to show up on the youngest member of the team's doorstep babbling about Bigfoot!

It wasn't going to be possible to explain that he'd mistaken the resident genius for some bar fly twink he'd fucked years before. No. His career wouldn't survive that.

He ordered another scotch. It wasn't as if a hangover was going to make that big a difference.

The entire evening had been a disaster. He'd been struck dumb when Reid opened the door. He'd looked so adorably rumpled. The confused look when all Rossi could do was squark 'sasquatch' at him had nearly caused the older man to fall apart.

When he'd knocked he'd been ready to promise Reid the moon if he'd only confront the elephant in the room and admit what had happened between them all those years ago. Instead Reid just blinked and asked if it was related to a case and, if not, couldn't it wait until morning.

Rossi had been mortified. Without another word he'd turned tail and run. Scuttling away until he'd run up here, the first bar he'd driven past. A bar he'd slouched into and started drowning his sorrows.

He was dimly aware that the stool next to him was getting a new occupant but it didn't really register until he heard the barman growl "ID." At the request he looked up at the mirror behind the bottles to see a reflected Spencer Reid handing over his credentials.

The barman grunted at the FBI ID. "What will it be?"

"Coffee please. It's a bit early for me."

Rossi turned to his colleague. "You can't taste it after the second spoon."

"I don't really like coffee."

The barman looked between the two men as if they'd gone insane as he slid the cup of coffee across the bar.

Rossi pulled out his wallet and slid a five dollar bill across the bar in payment for the coffee. The barman looked at Reid for confirmation before sweeping it up and making change. He retreated to serve another customer but managed to make it clear that he was keeping an eye on them, Reid's credentials notwithstanding.

"How many times did you read my book? To be able to quote it word for word." It wasn't the question Rossi really wanted an answer to but it was one he'd been curious about since that day on the plane.

"Once." Rossi raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Standing up in a bookshop in California. I bought a copy for my housemate but never opened it myself." Reid paused. "Never read the other one either."

Rossi laughed. "Housemate by the name of Ethan I suppose?" Reid nodded. "Do me a favour?" The other man shrugged noncommittally. "Get hold of the second one. Give it a go."

Reid picked up his un-sugared coffee and took a sip. With a grimace he returned the cup to the saucer then swivelled on the stool so he was facing the other man. "What do you want?"

"I don't honestly know." Rossi pushed his empty glass away. "I wasn't sure it was you. So I suppose I wanted confirmation one way or the other. Guess today wasn't the best way to go about it."

"Anything else?" The barman's return managed to make them both jump.

Reid shook his head. "I have any more coffee and I'll never get to sleep."

Rossi snorted. "The amount you get through it will barely make an impact." Reid looked offended. "I'm fine. I've got to drive back."

The barman looked at the agents before commenting. "You really shouldn't be driving. Virginia has strict drink drive laws. He should arrest you." He nodded at Reid before moving off again.

"Guess I get to drive for once!" The delight in Reid's voice was infectious and Rossi found himself laughing along.

"How did you find me anyway?" The question suddenly struck him. It wasn't as if this was an obvious place to look.

"I called Garcia." Reid stood and looked at Rossi as if urging him to hurry up. "Got her to place a trace on your cell. Keys." He held out a hand.

"What!" Rossi was shocked. Given her boyfriends lack of restraint in previously challenging him in the office involving Garcia in this meant that the whole event was still going to end up doing the rounds of the office.

"How else was I supposed to find you? ESP?"

For the second time that night, David Rossi found himself at Spencer Reid's apartment. This time, however, he was following the other man though to his bedroom because Reid refused to drive him home or let him drive himself. There had been some gruesome statistic on the increased likelihood of being in, or causing, a traffic accident when drinking that Rossi had agreed to stay just to make it stop.

That was before he discovered that Reid had a one-bed apartment and no couch.

Now he was spluttering something about calling a cab while simultaneously watching his companion shed layers. Somehow it was disappointing when he grabbed the discarded pyjamas and retreated to the bathroom. The mocking over it being a bed and that all they were going to be doing was sleeping somehow wasn't that comforting.

Reid in his PJs was still to adorable for words. There was no way Rossi was getting any sleep with that beside him.

Reid clambered onto the bed, shuffling pillows to ensure he got the ones he wanted, then snuggled down, tucking the blankets around himself. "Talk in the morning. Get the light." With that he dropped off to sleep leaving Rossi standing there.

Retiring to the bathroom, to reduce the chance of needing to get up in the middle of the night, Rossi took the opportunity to look in the mirror and give himself a good talking to. He had to be very careful to avoid being seen to be taking advantage of Reid. He'd heard enough talk about the other man 'servicing' Gideon, and indeed Hotch, that he didn't want to provide any more fuel for the fire. It was an unfortunate human train that people wanted to tear down something pure, like Spencer's profiling abilities, and turn it into something base and crass.

It was also a question he was going to have to ask at some point so he knew if he needed to hunt down his old friend and kill him.

Rossi knew from experience that relationships and the BAU didn't mix. Hotch was just the latest casualty of the curse. This could never be more than two ships that passed in the night long ago. He shook his head. If he was reduced to platitudes it really was time to get some sleep. Tomorrow's problems would wait.

Rossi slipped into the bed and turned out the light. The film on the windows provided privacy but let the glow of the streetlights shine through casting the room in a soft light.

The shifting of his bed mate came as a surprise but the wash of contentment when Reid cuddled closer was enough to sooth him to sleep with a smile on his face.

Tomorrow could take care of itself. For now he was going to revel in the feeling could have had years ago if only he'd managed to rein in his curiosity.

* * *

This is basically it for Two-Bit. There _may_ be an epilogue (after all Garcia's going to ask why Reid wanted Rossi's location ("Hot monkey sex, obviously")) but any continuation of the relationship will be under a new story.


	8. Epilogue

**AN:** Takes place post (but close to) Elephant's Memory

* * *

The cabin stood at the end of two miles of dirt track. The pot holes in the road were a clear indication that the owner wasn't particularly interested in visitors. This was a place you came to at your own risk; chances were you were going to have to retrace your journey and just leave again. It took a special sort of person to voluntarily move out here. Serial killers and home-grown terrorist bombers topped that list.

Which made it laughable that the current occupant used to make his living catching them.

David Rossi had only been here once before and that was many years ago. That was back when it was a fresh acquisition and a bunch of the guys had come up for a long weekend of drinking, hunting and shooting the breeze. It had been a good thing they'd brought supplies with them as the whole bunch of FBI trained marksmen had categorically proved that shooting dinner was a whole new ballgame.

This time Rossi was visiting uninvited, however he wasn't prepared to be chased off. He had three days, thank the Lord for holiday weekends, and it wouldn't take that long to break Jason down.

Knocking on the door elicited no response. Rossi was certain that this was where Jason would come to feel sorry for himself; indeed looking through the window indicated that someone was living there. This was Jason Gideon's secondary bolt hold, bought while still married as a place to get away from it all. The cabin in Maryland was a pale reflection of this, escape the wife, location.

He had time. He could wait. There was even a blanket on the swing to keep him warm while he kept his vigil.

* * *

Rossi was woken from his nap by the sound of another car pulling into the clearing. Blinking the sleep from his eyes he watched as the man he had come to visit made his way over. A bag of groceries in his arms, Jason Gideon stopped six feet from his car door and stared at the intruder.

The years hadn't been good to Gideon, even granting Rossi judicious use of hair dye. It was seven years since they'd last met and too many things had gone down, too many nightmare situations he would never recover from. Hotch had given Rossi some of the details, the bomber, his breakdown and even Frank. He should have been invalided out of the Bureau after his breakdown not pushed into lecturing and thus be available to be sucked back into the game. This job was hard and you could never really come back from a reaction like that.

A tilt of the head was all the welcome Rossi was going to get. Easing his way out of his car he followed the other man into the shack.

Neither man spoke as Gideon methodically stowed the bag's items away. The bottle pulled from one of the cupboards was slammed onto the table along with a couple of glasses.

Rossi poured the drinks while Gideon lent on the counter gathering his strength.

"Why are you here?" Gideon eventually broke the growing silence. Rossi cheered silently at his 'win'. "I made it clear that I had no interest in maintaining contact with anyone connected to the Bureau."

Rossi sipped the, tolerable, scotch. "You left them with questions."

"How would you know? You left years ago for a world of book tours and groupies." There was bitterness in the tone, though whether it could be attributed to the book deal or the better luck Rossi had always had attracting other people he didn't know. It did mean though that Gideon wasn't plugged into the grapevine. He was too busy burning his bridges to maintain those ties.

"I talked to Hotch." There, that was carefully non-specific. "He said that the way you left threw off the team dynamic. Not saying he missed you," Rossi drank the rest of the scotch in his glass. "Just that it was off balancing."

"I'm not going back. They'll just have to work through it themselves." Gideon slammed his drink back before taking up the bottle to refill both glasses.

"They have." The two words seemed to shock Gideon. "It's been six months, did you expect them to sit around moping? They are professionals - picked themselves up and moved on."

Rossi pushed the glass away. The road was bad enough to drive down without impairing his reaction times with alcohol. "I wanted to talk to you about one of them anyway. Doctor Reid." He watched Gideon carefully for any reaction to the name.

"There's nothing to tell. Pleasant enough boy who will never be a top notch profiler as he's too afraid of living." He laughed. "I set him up with a perfect date for his crush and he couldn't even pull that off. Boy will probably die a virgin."

Rossi had to force himself to remain seated. Some of Spencer's attitudes and behaviours were becoming explainable. Here was someone who was one of the best profilers in the world and he's so badly underestimated the man he was supposed to be a mentor for it was tantamount to abuse.

Spencer's reaction to the dismissal of their last un-sub, his connection to him became that little bit clearer. It didn't matter what Spencer did, how hard he tried or the insights he had, the person who was there to help ignored or dismissed him.

He could only hope that Reid's relationship with Gideon hadn't always been like that. Pray that, at least at the beginning there was more nurturing of his talent. And it was a talent, the kid was a natural with all the right instincts.

Pushing the chair back Rossi stood. He knew all he would learn now, all that was left was to deliver the parting shot.

"If you ever want to have any sort of relationship with the people you left behind I suggest you start soon. They've moved on. The team is full strength so there isn't a place being held for you."

Gideon, again, looked shocked at the news. As if he truly expected the world to wait.

"I took the senior profiler role. We've worked out most of the kinks at this point. The team works." Rossi paused to let this sink in. "Everyone is living their lives. We've gone through the good, JJ and Will, Penelope and Kevin; and the bad, Penelope was shot and Haley is divorcing Aaron. Don't leave it too late."

Rossi left Gideon in his kitchen to digest all he'd dumped into his lap. The drive back was going to take a good four hours and it would be late when he'd get in. It wasn't going to stop him calling Spencer, just to let him know what he'd done. That he'd let his fears about the relationship between the other two men drive him all the way out here and while he was happy that his concerns were ungrounded he didn't want the secret between them.

The fear he'd had about telling the team what he knew about Gideon's probable location was gone. The team didn't need Gideon although it did look like Gideon needed the team.

* * *

**AN2:** There may be other epilogues (there should be at least one - if I ever get past page 1) and this may end up moving forward or back. Hope you enjoyed.


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